


Bashert

by BrachaShakhor



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Chanukah, Jewish!Martin, Judaism, M/M, chanukahfanfest, hanukah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 14:50:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2854748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrachaShakhor/pseuds/BrachaShakhor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin shares Chanukah with his boyfriend, Douglas. Written for the 2014 Chanukah Fan Fest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bashert

**Author's Note:**

> A little bit late, but between fencing and IB stuff I did not have any time to write during Chanukah proper, but there you go. I really hope the Chanukah fic fest stays an annual thing because I love it. I've always felt that Martin is Jewish, for multitudes of reasons I won't go into here. I also need some Marlas fluff to get over the heartbreak of CP ending :(. un-betaed, hope you enjoy!

Martin lit the last candle, his voice wavering with emotion against the backdrop of Douglas' smooth baritone. "...Baziman hazeh," they finished, Douglas' voice wrapping around the words like velvet, or like the spices Martin kept in the drawer for Havdalah, or like the candles themselves in front of him. Ten days ago, Douglas didn't know the word he was saying now--or even that he would have to say them.

  
********

He had approached his boyfriend nervously in the portacabin as Douglas gathered his things to go home, after not helping Martin with the paperwork, of course.

"Douglas?" Martin's voice was quiet, but of course Douglas heard. He always did. In one impressively smooth motion, Douglas whirled around and folded Martin into his arms.

"Bonjour, mon capitan. Done with the paperwork?"

Martin laid his cheek on Douglas' chest. "Yes, no thanks to you, you lazy sod." He took a deep breath. "Douglas, I was wondering...will you come over to mine on Tuesday?" Martin didn't look at Douglas' face. He knew, as much as his boyfriend tried to hide it, that Douglas was not overly fond of his attic. Frankly, he couldn't blame him. Douglas hated that Martin couldn't be paid nearly as much as Martin did. He spoiled Martin rotten in response, but that was neither here nor there. But it also resulted in them spending most of their nights in at Douglas' house.

"Of course," Douglas replied after a brief pause, "but why ever Tuesday? That's very specific. Then again, it's not surprising knowing you, sir, liking to have a schedule to keep to, you ridiculous stickler." Martin smiled at Douglas' gentle teasing. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure--nay, the privilege--nay, the _honor_ of an invitation?"

Martin steeled himself. This was what he'd been dreading, although he honestly wasn't sure why. "It's, it's, it's...Tuesday--"

"Yes, I'm well aware that Tuesday is Tuesday," Douglas interrupted.

"Quiet, you. Tuesday...it's the first night of Chanukah."

Martin closed his eyes and turned his head, pressing his forehead into Douglas' chest.

Douglas prodded gently at his forehead. "Look at me, you ridiculous thing." Martin complied begrudgingly, looking into his boyfriend's warm brown eyes. "I had no idea that you were Jewish." His hand came up to card through Martin's ginger curls. "Why did you never tell me?"

Martin shrugged. "It just never came up. And, you know, I mean, I've told people in the past and it's gone over...not so well."

Douglas got a slightly evil, very familiar scheming glint in his eyes. "Who? And what did they do to you? And where do they live?"

Martin chuckled. "Nothing that bad. Just, a lot of jokes. I'm sure they were all in good fun, but you know..."

"They hurt."

Martin nodded. "They hurt."

Douglas raised an eyebrow. "This certainly explains Molokai." Martin laughed at that.

Douglas leaned in suddenly and kissed Martin for a long moment. He pulled away. "Tuesday it is, then."

  
********

Tuesday night found Martin setting out his menorah. It was a bit of a wonky odd thing, made of a slab of wood with washers to hold the candles, and brightly painted. Martin's young nephew, Simon's boy had made it for him, and he was rather fond of it.

"Well hello, my bashert." Martin jumped. He hadn't heard Douglas come up the stairs. He turned and smiled. "When did you learn Hebrew?"

Douglas grabbed Martin by the waist and kissed him. "I hate to admit that I didn't learn this one for you, as my vocabulary has long since been full of terms of endearment in every conceivable language." He kissed Martin again. "However, I must say that this is the first time I think it's been truly applicable. My bashert."

Martin blushed and turned stammering to the menorah. "Let's, I suppose, er, light, light the candles, okay?" Douglas laughed softly for the satisfaction of making Martin blush right to the tips of his ears.

With slightly shaking fingers Martin struck a match and lit the shamosh. He picked it up and started to chant. "Baruch atah--" he stopped sharply; his voice wasn't the only one singing. Douglas stopped shortly after he did. "Douglas? You know the...how?"

Douglas raised an eyebrow. "Well, just because I already knew the word bashert doesn't mean that I didn't learn any Hebrew for you."

Martin's jaw dropped a bit. He placed the shamosh back into its holder. "You did that for me?" Douglas smiled and kissed Martin's forehead. "Of course I did. I love you, and this is clearly important to you. And anyway, I've always been curious about Judaism. It's a beautiful religion, and--" Douglas found himself suddenly cut off with a kiss.

"Bashert," Martin whispered. Then they lit the candles and sang the blessings together.

  
********

Now it was the last night, and Douglas had convinced Martin to bring his dear slapdash menorah to Douglas' house. They lit the candles together, and Martin's chest felt as warm as the nine glowing lights bride him or his boyfriend's voice. As he replaced the shamosh in its holder, he felt Douglas lean down to kiss the crown of his head, and for a long, sweet moment, Martin watched the candles burn, warm in the arms of his bashert.


End file.
